


Keep A Secret

by The_Duchess



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College, Fraternities & Sororities, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Secret Crush, Sex Toys, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:11:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Duchess/pseuds/The_Duchess
Summary: “Can you keep a secret?”“Of course.”“Promise?”Steve is wondering what a different sort of orgasm feels like. Despite looking like he's made of steel, he's nervous. He decides to ask his friend Bucky for help. "Bucky showed up in the corner of my eye and I was shocked to say I really wanted to get to know him based on his smile alone. It was warm, like fresh cookies out of the oven made by a grandma warm. I needed that in my life."





	1. Can You Keep a Secret

It was the simplest, most innocuous opener. Although the word can have many connotations, virtually none of them venture into the unknown. 

“Hey.”

It was my friend and fraternity brother Steve, standing in my doorway. I was experiencing a rare moment of calm at our fraternity house on a regular weekday afternoon. 

“What’s up?”

“Got a minute? I saw something on the internet and I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Christ, Steve, what was it? Had I done something that somebody uploaded to Instagram? My thoughts raced back to last weekend and that huge kegger we had. I was drunk but mostly stayed plastered next to a wall, watching my fellow bros play beer pong. I remember falling into my bed with Trisha after that; had I done something to offend her? I hope not. 

“Yeah, I’ve got time. What is it?”

Steve looked at the hallway, then came into my room. He shut and locked the door, which put me on edge. What was so private? He stood near my bed and took a huge breath in and out. He turned to me and looked uncertain all the sudden. I pledged with this guy freshman year and I know what he looks like by now, nearly every single emotion. I’ve seen him happy, sad, delirious, angry, pissed, proud and flirtatious. Those Pacific Ocean blue eyes and sweep of blond hair never fail to attract anyone he has his sights set on at the time. Uncertain, however, was new for me.

“What’s up? You look, well, kinda uncertain, dude. What’s going on?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

“Promise?”

“You came into my room and locked the door. I’m not going to tell anyone about whatever you’re going to show me, trust me. Come on. Out with it.”

Steve punched me in the shoulder and sat down next to me. He pulled up a video on his phone. Sometimes, we do this, share funny videos or clips of stuff online. It’s always over text, though. I wondered what he had on his phone.

“Just watch, okay? You promised to keep a secret.”

He pushed play and my eyes went wide. There was a guy, maybe a little older than us, spread out on a bed with a blue toy in between his legs. It was curved strangely, not like the dildos and toys I’ve seen girls use. He traced his nipples with his fingers before going for some lube. He wet two fingers and pushed them straight up his ass.

“Steve, what the hell?”

“Just, please, wait, okay? You promised.”

We kept watching. The dude looked like he was enjoying himself, which was crazy to me. I know gay guys say an orgasm with a dick inside you is better than anything else but I fail to believe that. I’ve fucked enough girls to know it just takes the right pair to make fireworks. The guy pulled out his fingers and shifted to lube up that toy. I sucked in some air and clenched my stomach as I saw him take the whole toy inside him. His eyes were closed but flew open with a moan once the toy was as in far as it could go. He kept fucking himself with it and not even 5 minutes later came with a look on his face that couldn’t have been faked. His orgasm looked intense and better than any I’d had lately, anyway. The video shut off and I looked at Steve.

“Why did you want to show me that?”

“I, uh, I’m thinking about trying it. I kinda want to, no, I really want to do it. I was with this girl a few nights ago and she asked if I had ever done anal. I was like, yeah, I’ve fucked girls and she was like, no, have you put anything up there, like, my own ass. I said no and she told me to look up dudes having p-spot orgasms. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. I’m not gay, I just want to try it. Do you think I’m weird? I feel weird about it.”

“Uh... I mean, like, I don’t think so. Everything is fluid, people are all searching for what makes them feel good. This is just ones of those things, right? You’re still attracted to girls, you just want to try out a different sort of orgasm.”

“Right.”

“Okay, so…why did you-“

“I don’t want to do it alone.” He sighed and flopped down on my bed.

“Well, finding a girl that would be okay with it might be hard because she may think that you’re trying to figure things out about yourself, rather than just looking for what makes you feel good.”

“Right.”

“But you don’t want to do it alone, so you’d have to find…” Ah. Aha. I see. A sly smile appeared on Steve’s face.

“You can’t honestly think-“

“I can. I think you’d be interested in helping me out. Bucky, we’ve done everything together since the first month of freshman year. I’m only asking you as a friend because I trust you and I think you understand what I’m asking. I had hoped you wouldn’t freak out during the video and when you didn’t, I knew I was in the clear to ask you. I’m not asking you to marry me. I just want someone else in the room in case I hurt myself or get stuck, you know? Please?”

“Can I think about it?”

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere or asking anyone else. Just let me know when you decide what you think, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks. You coming out for tacos tonight? It’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah. Finishing up this operations project. I’ll be by later.”

“Cool. See you. Door open or closed?”

“Closed, thanks. I need to fu-focus.”

He shut the door and left. I put my head in my hands and rubbed at my eyes. What was happening? I looked down in slight horror to find an erection making my pants tight.

Fuck.


	2. Thinking About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 for you!

  I closed my door with a huge sigh of relief. Bucky was thinking about it.

_GOD._

I just told another guy I wanted to put something up my ass and he didn’t hit me or call me a fag. He was _thinking about it._ Being there with me while I did it.

I wasn’t 100% sure it was going to work, asking him, but I was pretty sure he’d say yes. Bucky and I have been friends since the day we showed up at the first event for our soon-to-be fraternity. I was pretty popular in my small hometown for two things: swinging home runs and stealing girlfriends. It made me friendly with lots of the right people but didn’t lead to a lot of friendships.  I left a trail of acquaintances and broken hearts behind and resolved to find a real friend in college whose girlfriend I would never steal. I would try to be better.

Bucky showed up in the corner of my eye and I was shocked to say I really wanted to get to know him based on his smile alone. It was warm, like fresh cookies out of the oven made by a grandma warm. I needed that in my life. I strolled over and introduced myself and in typical fashion, we discussed majors, hometowns, sports and classes. I commented on his shoes, which were white with baby blue laces.

“That a personal job, those laces? Is blue your favorite color?”

“Uh, yeah. I always liked the color and thought I would look good with blue eyes. I don’t exactly have them, so I usually wear blue somewhere else.”

“Your eyes are nice now. And your eyes suit your hair. Why would you change them? It’s hard having super blue eyes. Mine always stick out.”

“Your eyes are awesome. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any that color blue before.”

He said it earnestly, a true compliment after so long of hearing jokes and side comments about my eyes. They were pale, pale blue and when paired with my hair, gave me the look of some Viking ancestor. It was completely out of place in my hometown. I ducked my head down and said thanks, feeling my face getting warm. When was the last time I blushed? I looked up to see Bucky blushing too, so we were on even ground. I suggested we should mingle as a team and that was that. We’ve been a team for years now.  I’ve never stolen one of his girlfriends and I trust him, maybe more than I should. He’s my best friend now and I know all his quirks and limits. I thought this may have pushed him too far but he is thinking about it and I couldn’t be more grateful.

If he agrees…

When he agrees…well, we can’t do it here.  Maybe we should go off campus into the city to get a hotel. It might be better there. I opened my laptop and started looking for a hotel I could afford that was actually decent. After finding one, I opened up a private window and mentally prepared myself for some online shopping. I typed in “p-spot adult toys” and was bombarded with images, websites, and community threads about technique, not to mention all the reviews. This was brand new to me so I checked out reviews. I started clicking on ones for toys and tried to find the one the guy used in the video. I found a name in the comments section and searched for it online. 

Deep breath. You can do this. Just find it and buy it. Click and type and click.

Free express shipping when you buy their lube? Sure.

Click. Type in the address. Shit. I’d have to have it mailed here. But the packaging is a regular brown and only the initials show up on the return label. Cool.

Click. Credit card info. Click. Done.

Two days and it would be here. Just in time for the weekend. I wonder if Bucky would agree by then. I shut my computer and went to my bed. I put my headphones on and went to my phone. I watched the video again. I hadn’t been able to stop since I found it. I couldn’t fucking wait to feel as good as that guy’s orgasm looked. Bucky would be there with me to make sure everything was okay.

Funnily enough, I was banking on him saying yes.  Most guys would have said no but he’s an agreeable sort. Unflappable, always ready with a smile or an ear to listen to some problems. He was steady and strong and perfect in an approachable way, his chestnut hair falling in thick waves had a few highlights from the summer and turned to melted dark chocolate in the winter. His eyes held every shade of blue and gray in the Atlantic Ocean. I knew because I grew up next to it.  

Deep breath. This was going to be fine. This was the guy that hauled you over his shoulder and carried you up 3 flights of stairs last semester on a dare. This was the first person you feel asleep on during movie night while snoring in his ear and he didn’t move you. He helped you rearranged your class schedule when you switched majors last year while on vacation in Italy with your family.

_He’ll still hang out with me if this goes south_. It’ll be a one-off. No worries. We trust each other. It’ll all be fine. I was just nervous because this was new. Exciting. Different. Not because I was about to be vulnerable in front of my best friend while trying to come. Nope. Not a chance in hell was I worried about splitting myself open or, worse, him having to help me. I should probably practice beforehand. Thursday couldn’t come fast enough.


	3. He Would Do It For Me

I woke up on Wednesday in a state of dread. My head was foggy from last night. I went out for tacos and tequila with the guys and didn’t get home until 1. One shot too many, one taco too few. I should have paced myself better.

“Rise and shine, Barnes. We’ve got 14 minutes until we have to head out to class,” my friend Sam yelled through my door.

“Alright, alright, Wilson, I’m up.” Sam was the only other major in the house with classes in my area of campus. I blearily fell out of bed and trudged to the bathroom to shower. I forgot a towel and turned back to get one and guess who it was.

“Morning, Buck. Sleep off the shots? Probably not, by the look of it.”

“Shut it. Not all of us were blessed with incredibly large muscles and metabolisms to match. Some people just have to exist as mortals.” Steve never got hangovers. Everyone was jealous. He got drunk just like the rest of us and would belt out terrible 80’s karaoke songs like a pro after 7 shots but woke up the next morning as if the previous night was a calm evening in with a book while the rest of us could barely open our eyes.

“I told you not to take that early class this semester. No one wants a 9 a.m. P-Chem class.”

“I need to graduate on time, just like you. Stop making fun of me. It’s too early for this conversation.  I need to shower.” I started to head towards my room and Steve followed me. He leaned against my doorway and sighed.

“I know it’s too early to make fun of you but I was wondering if you’d given some thought to our conversation from yesterday. I just want-“

“Steve, I’m thinking about it, okay? It’s really early. I just wanna shower and go to class and not have a headache the rest of the day. I’ll catch up with you later.” I breezed by him and headed to the bathroom without looking back at him.

Luckily, our fraternity house is one of the older ones on campus. We had lots of little rooms and nooks that got turned into random bathroom / shower spaces. Some spaces just had a toilet and sink but no shower. Some were the opposite.  I snagged the one on our floor that was big enough for a standing shower and a counter but nothing else. It was solo, which was nice when you wanted to shower and think by yourself. I think a lot in the shower.

I started up the water and rubbed my eyes, I _had_ thought about our conversation yesterday. Steve was my best friend here. He had done so much for me when I got here. I wasn’t the most open or outgoing person. He helped me come out of my shell and pushed me towards pledging, saying that we’d never experience a life like this again. He was right.  I was grateful to my fellow brothers and the friendships I’d made. We were all close but not like Steve and I. Fuck, if this messed up would we still be friends? I wasn’t trying to make a new best friend anytime soon.

And what about the physical aspects? Was I just supposed to sit there while he did this? Was I supposed to watch? Could I watch? Maybe I would have to watch, just in case he hurt himself. It’s not like I’d mind. He’d do the same for me.

He would do the same for me. I knew it. Well, guess that was the end of my deliberation.

I got out of the shower and went to throw some clothes on and grab my backpack. I glanced at my desk and found a bottle of orange juice and a parmesan asiago bagel with butter and cream cheese in a container with a blue note sitting next to it.

_Buck,_

_Hope this helps with the hangover. Sorry about this morning - I wasn’t trying to push you. I’ll be out most of the day. See you tonight._

_Steve._

He must have felt pretty bad about this morning to bring my favorite bagel from downstairs. I smiled as I packed my backpack and sprinted out the door with Sam.

“How you holding up? Thought you’d be immobile this morning.”

“I’m okay, Sam. Just needed some food before class.” I whipped out my bagel and couldn’t even get it to my mouth before Sam started chuckling.

"Is that a Steve Rogers special? I know you had no time to make your own breakfast this morning. He’s always taking care of people in the house.”

“Yeah, he made this for me. Knew I needed it after last night.”

“You know, we both went out drinking and only one of us has a bagel,” Sam said, looking at me sideways. I momentarily choked on a bagel and tripped on the sidewalk. I righted myself and refused to acknowledge the trip.

“It’s cool, though. I mean, he did help carry you home last night and put you in your room. What’s a bagel on top of that?”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess.” I looked down and felt my ears go pink.

“You okay, man? Anything going on I need to know about? Looks like you wanna tell me something.”

“No, nothing right now…but maybe later, after I’ve really woken up. I’m sure class will help.”

I picked up the walking pace to further limit conversation. Sam was a psych major and was going debating into counseling or psychiatry. He was a master at reading people. It was handy when you needed him to get a feel on someone for you but made it extremely hard to lie to him or hide anything. Shutting up was my best course of action. Maybe talking to Sam would help though. I could take him to lunch and get his perspective on this situation. He could have some insight for me. I smiled at him and asked him what his lunch plans were.

“I was thinking about meeting up with Riley for sandwiches, why?”

“How about I take you for pad thai and trade you a mini session for lunch?”

“Sure, Bucky, whatever you need.”

I smiled to myself. Sam would help. He wouldn’t judge me. Everything would be okay. 


	4. Hold An Instrument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a Steve backstory chapter.

            “I want to see some serious definition on that canvas today. Real artists know how to use shadows to make the ordinary seem thrilling.”

Sigh. I loved our painting professor, Professor Romanoff (otherwise known as the Widow), but her encouragement sometimes sounded like commands. She came into every class wearing black, but not the artsy, black turtleneck type of black. Her black was almost militant in design: severe pencil skirts, formfitting lace tops, and one time she wore a bodysuit that I swear was real leather, although no one in the class seemed to think so. She was a big believer in the tough love approach when it came to teaching art. This was my third painting class with her. She was the reason why I had switched majors my sophomore year from business to art.

I was two weeks into the fall semester, trudging through a financial accounting course when I started doodling instead of paying attention to the numbers up front. The kid next to me peered over my shoulder and gave a me a thumbs-up, which I thought was weird. At the end of class, he pulled me aside.

“That’s some pretty good doodling you did over there. Kept me entertained all throughout class. You should take one of the Widow’s art classes if you like that stuff.”

            “The who?”

            “The Widow. The most dangerous professor in the entire art department. She’s amazing. They say she used to be a secret intelligence agent from Russia. Rumor has it that she signed a “retirement agreement” with the US and her teaching role here is part of the deal. Name’s Clint, by the way.”

            “I’m Steve.”

            “Yeah, I took her calligraphy and print works class last semester. I showed up every day five minutes early because if you’re not ready when the class starts, she doesn’t let you in the room. Seriously, though, take a class.”  

            “I’ll look into it.” 

I found the class Clint described still magically had a seat available and was open for registration. I signed up and showed up 10 minutes early later that week. I sat down and pulled out the pencils required for the class. They weren’t ones I was super familiar with, but I figured they couldn’t be much different from a good old No.2. I started doodling away on my new sketch pad, waiting for class to begin.  There had been happy chatter in the entire classroom and then suddenly, something sucked all the air out. You could have heard a pin drop. I looked up and there she was. A sweep of red hair, penetrating green eyes and the frostiest blank face I’d ever seen. I froze, perhaps in terror, but mostly in shock.

            “You must be Steve Rogers, the new student.”

            “Uh, yeah, um, that’s me.” Where had all my charm gone?

            “Well, Steve Rogers, since you’re new, clearly no one explained the rules to you. When you arrive to class, your first objective is to write your name down on the whiteboard using the best handwriting you have. I don’t see your name up there. Go.”

She crossed her arms and waited. I looked up and sure enough, there was a whiteboard with plenty of names, some in standard cursive, some with flowing capital letters followed by smaller lowercase letters and some in carefully written print. I stood and walked towards the board, fingers barely trembling. Come on, Rogers, you’ve hit home runs, given speeches to crowds of over a hundred people and made it to college. Surely, you can sign your own name.

I picked up a blue marker and decided that Ma’s Sunday school cursive from the 60’s was the way to go. I signed my name and stepped back.

            “What font is that, Rogers? What are you emulating in your name?”

            “It’s not a font, ma’am, it’s just how my Ma taught me to write for Sunday school as a kid.” I returned to my seat, ears hot and face titled down.

            “Students, let Steve’s name be a lesson to you. Always remember to bring something personal into what you create.” She then smiled at me and the whole room gasped. Apparently, the Widow’s smiles were a rarity.

            “Now, let’s begin with letterforms from the Enlightenment period.” The sound picked back up in the room and people began flipping pages. I had apparently passed my initiation with flying colors.

I dove straight into her class and the rest of my business ones faded into the background. Bucky noticed this about a month in and persuaded me to talk to her about other art mediums. I went into her office, which turned out to be some private loft space on campus, and started my hesitant inquiry about painting.

            “Are you a lover or a fighter, Steve?”

            “Uh, I guess a lover. What does this have to do with-“

            “Because if you are a lover, then you can begin to contemplate becoming an artist, although you may not become one for many years. If you can’t love, you will be wasting my and your time. Are you here to have me convince you to switch majors or are you here to drop my class?”

            “The, um, the former, ma’am.” I couldn’t stop calling here ma’am, although no one else did.

            “It’s nice to see the world is still producing lovers that know how to hold an instrument and create something beautiful.”

And with that one compliment, I took the rest of the semester to convince myself to switch majors. I tried to hide it from my family on vacation. I needed to sign up for classes, though, which Bucky happily helped me do while I was away.

It always comes back to him. Our friendship has been a cornerstone of my college life. I don’t know where I’d be without him. I left him breakfast this morning but hadn’t heard back from him all day.

Needing a distraction from my situation, I threw myself into my canvas and furiously painted the rest of class. When I sat up for air, it was nearly 2 hours later. Most people were packing up their partial works. I had actually finished mine and it wasn’t half bad. It was a beach scene done in shades of blue, gray and white. As I looked closer at my work, they were all shades that reminded me of Bucky. I reminded myself of the tone of note this morning. I hoped it wasn’t too sappy; I was trying to win him over. I needed him to say yes so I could have this experience. He’d been by my side for everything else so far. I didn’t see a real reason why he shouldn’t be here for this, too.

I sighed and sat back. Where was he? I went to check my phone and there was a text from Bucky.

_7 tonight_. _My room. Bring pizza. We need to talk._


End file.
